Trent sent one of his staff to the post office on Charlie’s behalf to post her parcels. He also called Emmett (the grocer) to tell him Charlie would be picking up her groceries late. Then he gave Emmett a stern talking-to when he tried to complain, emphasising Charlie needed support not a lecture.
Charlie held the sweet, milky tea that Trent had made her, feeling a lot lighter now that the tears had been shed. While she normally had black Russian Caravan, the overly sweet Tetley really hit the spot. It was odd to think that opening up about the weirdness in her house was what had brought her back to a feeling of normality. “I keep wondering what it would’ve been like living here when they did — the Evans family,” Charlie said, sipping from her mug.
“I’ve wondered the same thing. And I can tell you a little bit about it if you’re interested. Librarian, philosopher, therapist, and history buff over here. Now…let’s see what we know about your Evans family so far…”
“Okay,” Charlie clapped her hands. “I have had all this information running through my head on a loop. It’ll be nice to finally set it free! Mr William Evans and Mrs Emma Evans built the cottage sometime in the early 1920s. By the time they moved in, they would’ve probably already had at least one, if not two, children. Betty and Mildred both would’ve been born in the early 1920s. Marie was the third child and possibly the first one born in that house.
“She also had two younger sisters, Alice and Florence. The youngest was Jack, who died when he was only two years old. From polio. It’s always been a huge property, and in my dream — the dream where I saw the same tin I found this morning — there were a lot of sheep. So I’m thinking that’s what the property must have been used for originally.”
Trent scooted a bit closer to Charlie. “I think that’s exactly what they would have had going on. There’s plenty of farms around here that still raise sheep, amongst other agricultural endeavours. And that timing…well, it all makes sense. After World War I, a lot of Australians were encouraged by the government to go to the country and make a go of it ‘living on the land.’ It was romanticised, which may partly be why we still romanticise living in the country today.
“In fact, after the war, the government sometimes gave land away or sold it so cheap they may as well have. The only catch was that you had to clear it yourself. And that was no easy task. We’re not talking weeds — we’re talking gum trees. There were plenty of young men who worked in the city just long enough to buy their piece of outback so they could live out the Australian dream of having their own farm. Maybe even this Billy Evans? If he moved after he’d already gotten married and Emma started popping out babies, he must have had something else keeping him busy beforehand.”
Charlie nodded. “That makes sense,” she said, intrigued. A song popped into her head and she couldn’t help singing a few lines. “Give me a home among the gum trees, with lots of plum trees. A sheep or two, and a kangaroo…”
“A clothesline out the back. Veranda out the front. And an old rocking chair.” Trent finished. “John Williamson. We’ve been idealising the bush for decades!”
“It feels nice knowing the Evans were living out their dream.”
“Well, in the 1920s, maybe,” Trent continued. “Then the Great Depression hit in 1929, and it hit pretty hard in Australia. Especially here in New South Wales. As a sheep farmer, Billy might have gotten by okay. Wool prices were low, but at least consumption was steady. So long as he knew what he was doing, and he got good quality product, he probably survived the first couple of years okay.
“It was in the early 1930s when taxes started going up that things got really desperate. I remember this next statistic because I just can’t imagine it happening today. By 1933, one in three Australian breadwinners were unemployed. Can you imagine?”
“I literally can’t,” Charlie said, finishing her cup of tea. “They’d be burning things down if that happened today. When did we all get so selfish and stupid? Poor Jack would have been born right into the worst of it.”
“Well, let’s just assume the Evans family got by okay. We tend to look out for each other around here. And by the mid-1930s, wool prices were pretty much the highest they’d ever been. Even higher than before the Depression hit. Demand for wool started growing around then too.”
“That does make me feel better.” Charlie smiled. “I can picture it. And if they could afford to send the kids to the school in town, then they must have been all right. I even saw…” She was about to admit she’d seen Marie and Alice eating Arrowroot Biscuits by the creek outside of the dream but thought that last revelation might be a step too far. “I even saw Marie with Arrowroot Biscuits…in my dream. They could at least afford those.”
“You know, I’ve got the day off tomorrow,” Trent said. “I could take you on a little tour of Greenfields. See the old school, maybe the church too. We might find Marie’s and Jack’s graves.”
A shiver of excitement coursed through Charlie. “I’d actually love that,” she said, smiling again.
“Bring your voodoo,” Trent joked, referring to the collection of items Tess had gifted her.
“Ha-ha. Okay, I will. Thank you so much for today. I’m such a mess and you’ve just been the best. Better than anyone could have expected you to be.”
“Happy to formally welcome you as part of our little town’s family,” Trent said. “Let’s meet here at 10:00 a.m. tomorrow. I live close by. My partner Brent starts work at 9:00 a.m., so I’ll be free as a bird by then.”
“Did you say Brent?” Charlie giggled. “Trent and Brent?”
“Don’t even start, honey,” Trent pushed her shoulder playfully. “I’ve heard it all before! And besides, there’s slim pickings in country towns for straight people.”
“Okay then.” She was still laughing, wiping a tear from her eye. “It’s a plan.”
The next morning, Charlie felt animated as she pulled into the library car park just before ten. She’d exchanged phone numbers with Trent the day before. He’d promised there wouldn’t be any peanut butter on toast for breakfast, without any nervous prompting necessary on her part. It had felt like an instant and effortless connection between them. And she hadn’t realised just how much she’d missed real human interaction, not over a device, and not briefly over a counter and through a mask. Irrationally she felt a pang of guilt she hadn’t told Tess yet, but figured she’d call her that night.
Trent gave her a friendly peck on the cheek as he jumped into the passenger seat of Charlie’s RAV4. She did her best not to flinch, even though her entire body tensed. No peanut butter for breakfast, she reminded herself. How long has it been since someone pecked my cheek? Nine months? More?
“Hi!” Charlie said, a little breathless. It wasn’t a romantic date, but making friends in your forties sure felt like dating. “Thanks so much, again, for today.”
“Are you kidding?” Trent beamed happily. “I never get to do fieldwork, and I never get to meet new people. Thank you for livening up my Thursday.” From the research she’d done before purchasing her cottage, Charlie knew there were only around eight hundred people in Greenfields. A small town with a grocer, library, small hospital (more of a large health clinic really), pub with dodgy motel rooms, church, post office, a few smaller shops, and of course the school. The school was only a five-minutes drive from the library, on the edge of town. Everything in Greenfields was only five-minutes drive.
“How old is the school?” Charlie asked, to fill the short drive.
“Well, there was what we call a ‘bush school’ at that site from as early as 1860. It was run out of an old shed by a single teacher. The permanent school only opened in 1921, after the war. It’s always been an area school, so we get heaps of kids coming from around here, as far as an hour away by bus.”
“I’m ashamed to admit I know bugger all about the history of schooling in this country.”
“Is that an invitation to bore you?” Trent teased.
“Only a little…”
“Okay, a history of Australian schooling in two minutes or less…” He took a deep breath dramatically but continued in his even tone. “Us lucky Aussies have had free government-run education since the early twentieth century in every state and territory. Sure, we were still misogynistic: boys learnt geography and science, and girls learnt how to knit and darn. But at least they all got their maths and English. And only the boys tended to get the cane, at least on the regular. Here it is. Turn left.”
Charlie pulled up on the side of the road. The sound of children screaming and laughing was audible even this far from the gates. “Shit, I didn’t think about that. Of course the school is full of kids.”
“And on recess too,” Trent said. “I guess two childless adults wandering the grounds might ring a few alarm bells, huh?”
The school, made from red and sandstone bricks, was a decent size. The front office had a high-pointed tin roof, while the rest of the classrooms — surrounding a green oval — were more understated. A sign out front noted it was an “historic” school, operating for more than a century. Charlie tried to picture it as it must have been all those decades ago. Would the kids still make such a ruckus with the cane looming over them? She supposed they would have.
Trent seemed to read her mind. “There were a lot more rules back then. Rules for everything, from how to sit on your bench to how to hold your pen.”
“I had rules for my pen too. I even had to get a pen license.”
“Sure, but at least you wouldn’t have been walloped over the back of the knuckles with a ruler if you didn’t hold your pen correctly, sit up straight, or — God forbid — were a leftie.”
“What about home schooling?” Charlie asked, thinking back to her dream and her comprehension that Marie had been kept home with Alice and Florence well past the age of six.
“I don’t know…” Trent mused, tilting his head to the side. “Ah, you’ve stumped me. I guess it wasn’t really a thing back then. You just went to school.”
“And if you didn’t go to school?”
Trent shrugged. “I guess you just didn’t. Even though it was compulsory, no one really followed up back then. Not in these country areas at least. It was more likely your neighbour would keep you honest than the council. It was easier to get away with keeping your kids on the farm for manual labour.” A bell rang and the noise of the kids reached a crescendo as they raced to their classrooms. “On to the cemetery?”
“On to the cemetery.”